


Demiurge

by PallasPerilous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alt Lucifer, Angels are Dicks (Supernatural), Angst, But also not the way you're thinking, Cosmic Fix-It, Ficlet, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lucifer (Supernatural)'s True Form, Lucifer Redemption, Lucifer's Cage, Mental Health Issues, POV Sam Winchester, Post-Season/Series 05, Pre-Season/Series 10, Sam Winchester Deserves to be Happy, Vessels, but not the way you're thinking, fuck Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 18:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16938531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PallasPerilous/pseuds/PallasPerilous
Summary: Lucifer pours Sam another drink, and he takes it. He’s relieved that it’s the real Lucifer, this time. Most nights it's the pretender, with his relentless class-clown routine.Lucifer hears him thinking. “I guess I take after my aunt,” she says, wry.Sam has no fucking clue what that means.______





	Demiurge

Lucifer pours Sam another drink, and he takes it. He’s relieved that it’s the real Lucifer, this time. Most nights it's the pretender, with his relentless class-clown routine.

Lucifer hears him thinking. “I guess I take after my aunt,” she says, wry.Sam has no fucking clue what that means, but he doesn’t need to; it’s not his responsibility here. Nothing is. The real Lucifer’s presence feels like warm milk flowing through the channels of his cerebellum; the other guy just left cigarette burns.

“So, the fear,” she says. “The anxiety. That you have, and your brother.”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah. Pretty sure we both got that from Dad. The gift that keeps on giving. I think it’s –”

“You think we like it, in our vessels.”

“Just a theory,” Sam replies, a little bashful. The drink is just clear water, cold, completely flavorless. It has not been made holy. It’s never even touched the earth’s surface.

She looks out at the whitening moonscape below them and sighs, leans forward on the cliff’s edge. “Sounds like the sort of thing we’d do.”

Sam kicks the dust with the toe of his boot, watches as it floats off the edge in ethereal ribbons. “Is shit like that why you left?”

She looks over at him, narrows some of her eyes. “Why did _you_ leave?”

“Because my brother was gonna get himself killed protecting me. Or he was gonna kill Dad in the process.”

“Hm,” she agrees, blinking slowly. “Shit like that.” Her innermost layer of wings describe slow orbits around them, prismatic panes that split and multiply the starlight.

The worst part of it all, the thing that he really feels for her over? To finally be the one to break the whole fucked up family pattern, to shoulder all the consequences of it – and then the people you _murdered your own life for_ just…recast you. Purpose-build some cackling asshole to soak up a bevy of theatrical punishments, so that there’s no danger anybody outside the family will ever find _your_ choices sympathetic.

Because nobody with a functioning brain could look at Sam’s shitbird of a cellmate and think _now here’s somebody who’s really gonna look out for the little guy._ That’s how you really turn God’s right’s hand into the King of Hell; you fucking _retcon_ it.

And it sucks, it really sucks, that Sam made it out of his family’s thing, sort of, mostly – but she didn’t. He’s the only one who will ever know about her, the only one capable of remembering her, because he was made for her. The real Light-Bearer.

Speaking of which.

There’s a blue gleam swelling the horizon. Earthrise.

“Here it comes,” Lucifer says. Her voice is calm and steady. “Are you ready, Sammy?”

Sam’s chest is starting to feel heavy. Her hand reaches out, braces him. “It’s okay if you aren’t. We don’t have to do this today.”

She means it, too. That’s the wild thing.

The pressure increases. He’s starting to feel it in his airways, now. “No, it’s okay. I’m good. Better to get it over with, right?” He smiles weakly, sets down his glass.

“I’ll be right here,” she says, and her cool hand moves over the point in his chest where the weight is really starting to crush in. “I won’t leave you.”

That’s the only thing makes this bearable. Weird that he used to be afraid of it.

The earth bloats into view, monstrous in proportion to everything around it, and the screams slowly become audible –


End file.
